


Touch

by Elektra Pendragon (elekdragon)



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode IV: A New Hope, Star Wars Original Trilogy
Genre: Comfort, M/M, Minor Character(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2003-02-20
Updated: 2003-02-20
Packaged: 2017-10-17 07:26:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,682
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/174354
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elekdragon/pseuds/Elektra%20Pendragon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Vader is exhausted and Black 3 helps him relax.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Touch

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by a short note about Vader's personal wingmen in "Anakin Skywalker: The Story of Darth Vader." These are the two men in black flight suits that flew the other TIEs with Vader in the very first Star Wars film.

When Vader entered his private quarters on the Death Star, he found Black 2 and Black 3 in bed together. Their naked bodies rested against each other as they sleepily blinked at him through the light spilling in the door. Black 3 was on his back, his arms above his head in a loose stretch. Black 2 lay on his stomach, sitting up with one arm to support him and one leg tossed loosely over Black 3's thigh. The vast room was kept quite warm, a comfortable temperature for Lord Vader, and the two men had no blanket to cover them. They lay silent, waiting for Vader's commands. Vader activated the door, closing out the light and returning the chamber to its usual darkness.

His personal wingmen traveled with Vader at all times, kept by his side to be ready for his every need at a moment's notice. They were the two best pilots in the Empire next to Vader, hand picked by the Sith Lord himself. He had long ago erased their names and original identities in all records until they existed only as Black 2 and Black 3, only for him. Able pilots, educated and intelligent companions, his wingmen were also quite handsome, their perfect bodies complimenting each other with pale skin and light hair. They were beautiful together, two of Vader's favorite trophies. They served him in all ways, any way he desired.

Their hair was crumpled from being in bed, and they both looked bruised around the eyes. Was it night already? Vader could hardly recall; he didn't work on a chrono timetable. Sometimes he didn't rest for days.

He felt weary, stretched thin beneath his protective suit and circuitry. While he didn't quite feel pain anymore, not as he should from his damaged body, Vader could imagine phantom aches in his mechanical hands, joints crying out from age and abuse. He needed to rest.

Despite the tempting picture his wingmen made, Vader was not in the mood for that kind of comfort. He waved a careless hand, gesturing for them to be still. "I have no need for you tonight." Before Vader could turn and walk away, Black 2 dropped heavily onto the bed, burrowing his head deep into the pillow. Vader ignored him and headed for the hyperbaric chamber. Every ship he spent an extended time on came equipped with the special chamber for his quarters. His hand deftly flew over the controls, raising the dome so that he could step inside the sterile, pressurized environment. Sometimes meditating could refresh his weary physical self and soothe his mind. Perhaps he would even sleep for a time.

Vader didn't need to turn around to know he was being watched. Though he was silent and careful, Vader could still feel Black 3 move within the large room. One of the many things that had attracted Vader to the pilot was that the man was a Force-sensitive. Perhaps in the Old Republic, long before the Clone Wars, he would have been trained as a Jedi, found out and stolen from his family not long after his birth. Within the Empire, he had grown to be a man before he volunteered his life to a greater purpose. He joined the Imperial Service when he was 19. Vader knew all about him; his family, his friends, his past.

Black 3 had no formal training in the ways of the Force, but he showed some of the advantages of one who was specially touched by it. His reflexes were enhanced, his mind especially sharp. His skills exceeded even that of his companion, Black 2. But he was no Jedi, nor a Sith. He was merely another one of the Emperor's tools.

"You should sleep," Vader commanded. He needed his pilots to be rested and sharp.

Black 3 didn't immediately move to obey. After a long moment, Vader graced him with his full attention. He turned away from the chamber and looked at the young man.

His brown eyes, usually sharp as a predator, were softened from interrupted sleep. His face was a little puffy, giving him a more youthful roundness. He looked almost like a young teen rather than a man nearing his thirties. He was exhausted, obviously, but there was some energy left in him. Black 3 stood boldly, unashamed of his nakedness, but his posture was such to acknowledge his Lord's power. Even as he defied Vader, he still served him loyally. He stepped forward at Vader's attention, his gaze clearing the nearer he approached. Being a Force-sensitive, the pilot was attracted to the power that forever cloaked Vader; it seemed at times the man was almost addicted to the feeling he got from being near such a Force conduit. It would be interesting to see his reaction to being in the presence of the Emperor.

When Black 3 was almost near enough to touch, Vader indicated with a gesture that he should stop. Black 3 obeyed, his head bowing slightly as he waited. "You should sleep," he said again, his voice softer this time. If his Emperor asked, Vader would be hard pressed to deny feeling a certain...favoritism towards Black 3. A minor attachment to something that was exceptional, like a finely built TIE or a lightsaber crafted for one master's hand. Absently, Vader reached out and stroked a glove finger down the cheek of his young pilot.

Emboldened, Black 3 spoke. "Please." His voice was smooth with an Outer Rim accent, much like Vader's. So different from the other Imperial officers. "Let me...may I watch you, my Lord?"

It was not the first time Black 3 had asked to watch Vader as he rested in the hyperbaric chamber, and it was not the first time that Vader had thought to agree to it. His personal wingmen were privy to much of his private life. A simple request, a harmless one. Vader was weary.

"You may," Vader granted, then he turned his back and entered the sterile fields. He sat on the chair and activated the controls, cleaning his body of impurities and sterilizing the thick armour protecting it. Another wave of his hand, and the metal clamps lowered, grasping his helmet. The clasps came undone with a hiss of equalizing pressure, and then the entire thing was lifted off his head.

Vader always closed his eyes for this. The stark white glare of the chamber made his damaged eyes ache as they tried to readjust to working on their own in harsh conditions. His lungs shuddered as he took in a breath not filtered through the mask. That, too, was painful, but it was a releasing pain. He could almost will his lungs to function on their own, beyond the ever-present respirator that forced his chest to expand and contract in a soulless, mechanically-measured rhythm. He still could not heal himself enough to exist outside this technology. The odd wheezing eased as Vader concentrated on relaxing as the machinery did the work his lungs no longer could.

The hyperbaric chamber was a sealed environment, even with the dome half-open. It was still filtered air he breathed, but it tasted like the sweet breeze off a morning lake compared to the metallic blood-tang of the mask.

Circuitry and flesh melded into one; Vader felt it all ease somewhat. New energy flowed into him through the Force as he began to quiet his mind for meditation. He let himself drift, giving up to the ebb and flow of his thoughts, the Force, the air that filled his lungs. Time passed without Vader being conscious of it. Images flowed through his mind, coming at random and in disjointed flashes, showing him things that he couldn't understand just yet. He let them come, storing away every insight so he could revisit them later and delve into their secrets.

When it came time and his meditations had calmed him enough, Vader allowed his eyes to open.

Black 3 was still watching him. He reclined on the ground directly across from Vader's chair. The younger man was leaning forward, his face as close as it could be to the shields. The white light of the chamber made bluish shadows on his face. His eyes were very sharp now, glistening almost as they remained locked in rapt attention on Vader's true face. His lips parted, as though he could somehow sip from the endless stream of energy that flowed through Vader's body, connecting him to the Force. There was no disgust or dark fascination behind his attention, just a kind of awe and devotion.

The young man seemed startled to find that his intense observation was being returned after so long of being ignored. He blinked, his cheeks flushing from the strength that remained in Vader's damaged eyes.

Vader's lips moved in the slightest of smiles, but the tiny gesture was returned ten-fold. Black 3 beamed like a lowly acolyte being graced with his god's attention. But the smile slowly faded into something a little more sad. Black 3 brought up a hand and touched the outer edge of the chamber. He leaned forward again, nose close enough to the shields to feel the shocking sting of the electric aura.

"I wish I could touch you," he said with great respect in his voice. He dipped his head, embarrassed from his admission.

"I know," Vader answered. There was no doubt in his mind that Black 3 harbored some kind of love for him, true and unwavering. It was an odd kind of love, one someone has for something greater than himself. A frightened love, a devotion based on the faith that if he just cared enough, just worshipped the right way, he would be rewarded, loved in return, protected. Black 3 loved as one would love his saviour, the one who freed him.

Vader closed his eyes again, tipping his head back slightly to take in a shivering breath of highly oxygenated air. Black 3's presence was soothing, helping Vader to slip back into the meditation, and, eventually, into a dreamless, formless sleep.


End file.
